


love someone to destroy who you used to be

by persephassax



Category: Common Law
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1962312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephassax/pseuds/persephassax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes and Travis share a love like a house on fire, like a rope bridge over the abyss. </p><p>Character study. Pre-series, post-"Gun!" revelations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love someone to destroy who you used to be

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from A Softer World:  
> http://asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1088

Loving Alex is easy. It’s expected. They love the same things. They have things in common. They work together, they talk about the law. Late night jazz DJs is easy. Loving Alex is the sound of her laughter, quiet and carefree, something that surprises him. 

Loving Travis is like breathing. It’s unconscious. It’s necessary. It’s unbearable, like when you’ve been punched in the solar plexus. It hurts. They fight and they work together seamlessly, the things they hate burn high and bright in their chests and call out to each other. They can’t do anything but be together, sometimes, because no one else has ever felt this thing like the thing that exists between them. 

He wishes that loving Alex were as easy as it appears. He wishes that he could love her the way he wants to love her, the way he did love her, even though it pulled them apart. He doesn’t know if she loved him like something she couldn’t live without, he knows she wanted to work harder to work things out, but admitting that loving Alex isn’t easy would be admitting that loving Alex wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. Letting things fall apart was easier than that. 

Looking Alex in the face and telling her that he was willing to work to make sure things work out with Travis was one of the hardest things he has ever done. Loving Travis is something he can’t stop, and so he has to work for it. Because it’s inevitable. He will love Travis whether things are good or not. But he can’t love Alex with that kind of always. 

Wes loved Travis even when he had a gun pointed at his head. Wes loved Travis most of all in that moment, because he knew that it was the knife’s edge and that this could destroy everything, but that he had to keep Travis safe, even if it meant pushing him as far away as possible. Because the way Travis craved justice for this and for all things, but especially for this, set Wes' soul on fire even though Wes couldn't let him, not this time.

Fighting with Travis is like loving Travis is like a missing limb. It’s a tingling sensation of nerves that no longer exist that are still talking to your brain over a distance unimaginable. It hurts and he never wants it to stop. 

The endless stream of women that flows through Travis' bed is easy. It maintains itself. It's like smiling, something quick and thoughtless designed to fill space and deflect questions. Smiling is an armor, the women are the same. They are a pleasing distraction.

It's easy to see why they don't last. Smiles are quick easy ephemeral things. They don't need work, because taking the time to put it in would require admitting that they're worth it, but there is no space for them.

Travis has a string of foster moms and a small army of foster siblings. He imagines that out there he even has a few blood relations, but finding them is impossible now, so he doesn't think about it. He knows how to make friends, he even knows how to keep them. But the ties of family last beyond time and distance, it's a love that doesn't need maintenance. 

Working with Wes is like filling a hole in Travis' soul. It's the kind of laugh that takes you by surprise, that reveals you when you least expect it. It's hard being cracked open around someone else all the time. Testing the limits of what they have is the only thing he can do sometimes. Because this isn't family, and these ties will break under strain.  
Watching Wes and Alex fall apart is terrifying. It's watching what you thought was made of stone wash away like a sand castle at high tide. Travis doesn't want to think about Wes clinging to him like he does to Alex, when he does something unforgivable, he doesn't want to watch this man keep coming around when he has no business still being here. 

Travis loves Wes in ways he didn't know were possible, with a love that burned so bright and left hot black scars on everything it touched inside of him. Everything fed the fire of this love, the way Wes eats his food, the way he holds himself, the way he looks at Travis, like he holds the world in his hands, like he is an idiot. 

Looking into Wes' eyes when he has a gun to his head is like seeing eternity. It's like staring into the ocean, the grey of Wes' eyes is infinite and Travis knows that Wes will tear them apart, will ruin himself, because in this moment he will do anything for Travis. He will rip Travis into pieces to keep him from walking out that door.

Fighting with Wes is easy. It's the flush of knowing someone like knowing yourself, saying things just to watch the way Wes will roll his eyes. Because Travis is afraid. He is afraid of what will happen to them, afraid of the unknown country they have traveled to, where Wes is practically a stranger. When Travis looks into Wes' eyes it's still like looking into the ocean.

Wes still trusts Travis, Wes will always trust Travis, because there is no world wherein Travis will act against him. But Wes is afraid of Travis. Wes is afraid that Travis will walk out the doors on the other end of his gun and leave to some place where Wes cannot follow. Wes is afraid that Travis will rip the last little pieces of his life away from him, and leave him.

They stare across the unimaginable distance between them, sitting on paired chairs. The infinity between them, the ocean, the gun, the way the trust has turned brittle. It's like holding hands over an abyss, they cling to each other but watch for the moment one of them will slip like they will have enough time to let go, like they won't fall together, like it isn't already too late.


End file.
